“Huh!” commented Alex. “He wouldn’t know whose fire it was, would he? He might think it some hunter’s camp. Besides, I have a notion that he thinks we were drowned when he cut the chain of the anchor. No, he hasn’t any idea that we are here. I hope it is him. Then we’ll get some news of Gran Listen! There it comes again, and it is not very far away, either. That weak voice never traveled far.”
The call was repeated again and again, and all the boys left the fire and started off up the creek, not forgetting to take their electrics and automatics with them. There were stars in the sky, but it was dark under the trees along the bed of the creek.
When they were a few paces from the fire the voice called again, faintly.
“Pretty close by!” Clay observed. “I wonder where Captain Joe is? He ought to be showing up somewhere. Hope the fellow, whoever he is, won’t mistake him for a grizzly and shoot him. There’s his voice now.”
Captain Joe was indeed close by, sending a long, heavy call into the darkness. He seemed to be no farther away than the one who had called for assistance. The boys moved forward swiftly.
“He’s found the stranger!” Case exclaimed. “I know by the sound of his voice that he has treed something. Good old Captain Joe!”
Directly the dog came out of a thicket, leaped joyfully about the feet of the boys, gave utterance to low growls of satisfaction, and ran back into the undergrowth, as if inviting the lads to follow on and see what he had discovered. They were not slow in accepting the invitation.
Clay was in the lead, his searchlight on the ground. Presently he came to a little shelter made of fresh boughs and stopped to investigate.
“That’s been built within a short time,” he declared, as Case and Alex came up. “But where did Captain Joe go so quickly?”
“He’s probably inside that hut,” Case replied. “He ran that way.”